


i threw glass at my friend's eyes and now i'm on probation

by softdadironman



Series: sit next to me [12]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bromance, Character Development, Crack, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Epic Bromance, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Humor, Hurt, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Peter Parker Whump, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Avengers, Superfamily, Team as Family, Teen Angst, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Young Love, but theyre still bros in this, seriously no slash bc ew but peter thinks he likes wade for like 2 secs before he finds out hes old, this is wonk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 20:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19893856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softdadironman/pseuds/softdadironman
Summary: Peter's never really minded the superfans who dress up like him. It's sweet, really.Except when they wear katanas and kill for money.***Peter's waking up in a stranger's apartment, his hero is day drinking through his mask (in a piss poor knock off suit), and now he's working a buddy cop case with Deadpool.





	i threw glass at my friend's eyes and now i'm on probation

**Author's Note:**

> summary is shit, my bad

Peter got a lot of hate on the job. The police don’t always appreciate his help on the scene, and civilians don’t always want to be saved. 

Don’t get Peter wrong - he loves his pop culture references. He’ll take those to his grave, but he could do without the classic tomato-throwing. Sometimes he’ll take three baths and still can’t get rid of the stale New York hot dog smell. 

It sucks, honestly, but seeing little kids wearing his merch makes the stale hot dogs not as bad. Seeing his classmates gush about him? Seeing his logo plastered over the city? Yeah, it’s a pretty good feeling. 

So on a monday afternoon patrol when he happens apon a crazed fan, he shouldn’t be that surprised. 

A man in a red and black suit was yelling at a hot dog stand girl. She was sobbing loudly by the time Peter arrived on the scene. 

People were circling around the stand, but no one came close to defend the girl. “Look, I appreciate the cosplay, but Spider-Man doesn’t even use katanas,” Peter said, landing in his classic superhero stance. The blonde girl hid behind him as soon as he showed up. 

“Thank god, the real Spidey!” she cried. 

“For the last time, Barbie, I’m not Spider-Guy. I’ve had this suit a lot longer than he has,” the imposter said, unsheathing his katana. 

“Whoa, whoa,” Peter said, putting his hands up. “Again, the cosplay looks nice, but you can’t be carrying around real ones like that…” 

“Not a cosplay.” 

“Sure, thing,” Peter hummed. “You’re gonna need to put that away before someone gets hurt.” 

“Someone will be getting hurt if I don’t get my hot dog soon,” the man growled. 

“Really? You’re going to commit a murder for a stale dog?” Peter huffed, making sure to keep the girl behind him. “That’s pathetic.” 

“Actually, I wasn’t going to hurt anyone, but I tried to order a hot dog and this chick just started sobbing.” 

Peter turned around to give the crying girl an umimpressed look. 

The red and black dressed man pulled a couple of ones out of his pocket and dropped them on the stand. He pulled out a hot dog and covered it in an ubsurd amount of ketchup. “See? No bitch tears.” 

The imposter walked off and that was the last Peter thought he’d see of him. Well, correction, that was the last he hoped he’d see of him. 

Sure enough, as Parker luck decrees, he runs into him again. 

A fight’s gone south, Peter’s been stabbed, Karen’s going offline, and he’s pretty sure the tracker in his suit is damaged, as well as the majority of his suit’s functions. 

The hands around his neck are unrelentless. There’s not much he can do except weakly reach out. His suit’s dying, and so is he. 

His vision is blacking out when a katana slices through the claw around his neck. 

When he wakes up, he’s in a grimy apartment. He sits up quickly, surprised to find no restraints around him. He feels for his mask and sighs out of relief when it’s there. 

Swinging his feet off the couch, he finds his socks missing. The lower half of his suit was rolled up and the stab wounds on his leg are wrapped up. 

“Miss Romanov?” he calls out, coughing. He’s aware of some of her… hideouts, but he can’t imagine she’d keep one this dirty. “Mr. Barton? Hello? Anyone?” 

“In the kitchen!” a voice called. 

Peter stumbled off the couch on weak legs and collapsed against the doorframe of the pathetic kitchen, if you could even call it such. 

A man had his back turned to Peter. A “kiss the chef” apron loosely hung around him. 

“Good morning,” he sang. “You hungry?” 

Peter’s stomach chose that exact moment to growl loudly. The man chuckled and dropped some tacos on a paper plate and slid them across the counter. 

Peter is hungry, so he sits down and rolls his mask above his mouth. He takes a bite out of the taco, not bothering to worry about anything dangerous in it. “If every crazed superfan cooks this good, I don’t think I’d mind if they kidnapped me that often.” 

“Again, not a fan of yours. Don’t mean to bruise your ego, Spider-Boy, but I wasn’t aware of your existence until last week.” 

Peter dropped his taco on his plate. The man took a seat on the opposite side of the counter but didn’t eat. “It’s Spider-Man.” 

“I’ll call you that as long as you call me by my name and not that ‘superfan’ bullshit,” he said, grabbing a bottle of vodka and twisting off the cap. “Want some?” 

“It’s 9:00 am,” Peter said, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was a valid excuse as any. Not to mention Peter was still sixteen. 

“If you don’t daydrink, you’re not living,” he said, pouring some into a glass. “I’m Deadpool, by the way.” 

Peter takes another bite of his food. “Thanks, Deadpool.” 

“For saving your life or for the taco?” 

“The taco,” he giggled. “And, yeah, I guess saving me from the Octopus. That was pretty amazing for a fan.” 

“I have a no killing before breakfast rule, so I’m going to need you to shut up now,” he said, groaning. 

“Sorry,” Peter apologized, not really meaning it. “So you’re a hero, then? Are you new?” 

“Sweetheart, I’ve been around a lot longer than you,” he said, drinking his glass… through his mask. How he managed that Peter has no clue. “And, I suppose I am your hero, seeing as I saved your life and all. So you could drop to your knees and worship me if you feel like it.” 

Peter laughed. “If you’re a hero, how come I haven’t heard of you before?” 

“I’m new in town,” he said. 

“You visiting family?” Peter asked, not really knowing what to say. 

“Work,” he replied shortly. 

“Hero work? Wanna do a team-up?” Peter asked, jumping out of his chair with clenched fists. 

Deadpool cackled. “Not your type of gig,” he retorted. “Maybe next time.” 

“God, you sound like the Avengers,” Peter said, gagging. “You know, I can hold my own in a fight.” 

“Can you?” he said, snorting. “That Oct guy had you passing out in his hold. Maybe the Avengers are right.” 

“Yeah… Oh, shit, the Avengers!” Peter exclaimed. “Oh, oh, can I borrow a phone?” 

Deadpool raised an eyebrow under his mask. “What, you didn’t call in sick to work?” 

Peter didn’t have time to laugh. “They’re probably worried sick I didn’t come home last night.” 

“What are you, your parents?” 

Peter stiffened. “...No. I have normal parents. Ones that I don’t live with.” 

“Right, kid,” he said, humming. 

“Um, not a kid,” Peter griped. “But, uh, I do need to call them. May I use your phone?” 

Deadpool handed over his phone and Peter quickly dialed Tony. He picked up on the first ring. “Peter, you better be dead. That’s the only excuse you’re not picking up your phone.” 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, it died, and then my fight last night went wrong…” 

“Kid, where are you? Are you hurt?” 

“I’m fine, really. Deadpool stitched me up.” 

“Deadpool?” Tony exclaimed. “Deadpool? The mercenary? Peter, what the fuck are you doing with Deadpool?” 

“Mercenary?” Peter scoffed, looking at Deadpool, who was shrugging. “Oh, a mercenary. Oh. Oh, shit. Uh, Mr. Stark, I got to go.” 

“Peter, you need to tell me where you are--” Peter hung up. 

“Hey, if you want the Avengers to think you can handle your own, maybe stop kissing up to them like you’re an intern,” he said. “You sound like you’re twelve already.” 

“Rude,” he hissed. 

Deadpool looked him over. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking because of the mask. “I’m a merc. What are you still doing here, hero boy?” 

“I mean, the media is wrong about people all the time, you know? They think I’m a menace, and you saved my life, so maybe you’re not that bad.”

“Wow, that’s… That’s heartwarming. Hate to break it to you, but I am that bad. I kill people for a living. That’s my job.” 

“I mean, are they bad people? Maybe you kill in self defense?” 

“No, I kill for money,” he said. “Money only. Sometimes they are bad.” 

“You won’t be killing anyone on my watch. Bad or not.” Peter backed away from the table and got into a stance in case he tried anything. 

“Relax. I’m not taking the job, anyways.” He kicked his feet up on the counter and leaned back in his chair. “I don’t kill kids.” 

“Someone’s ordered a mercenary on a kid?” Peter gasped. “That’s awful.” 

“Yeah, an innocent little untrackable kid,” he said. “Protecting isn’t really in my job description, but the buyers were pretty set on killing him. If not me, another mercenary is bound to get his hands on that boy.” 

“I can help you,” Peter decided. “Superhero teamup! What’s the kid’s name?” 

“I dunno; could you handle it?” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Yes, sweaty, I got it. Kid’s name?” 

Deadpool slips his phone out of his pocket. “Uh, it’s…” he hesitates as he flips through something. “Hold on, I’ll have to find the file.” 

“See? You can’t be that bad. You’re saving this kid.” 

“Only because he’s got a sob story,” he said. “Kid lost his whole family.” He exclaimed suddenly. “Oh, found it.” 

“Alright, great, let’s get going. I got a friend on the force who can track it for us.” Peter went to open a window. “Come on, Pool, let’s go.” 

Deadpool held up his keys, and Peter shook his head. “I’m not walking.” 

“Who said we’re walking?” Peter asked, putting a hand around Deadpool before shooting a web. “Hold on tight.” 

A shaky swing later and they found themselves at a police station. Peter got weird looks, especially walking in with Deadpool, who Peter made leave his weapons on the roof. 

“Ah, Yuri!” Peter exclaimed, hugging her on greeting. 

The intern smiled at him and gave him a tight hug. “Spidey, what can I do for you?”

“We’re looking for a kid. Can you run his name for us?” 

“Anything for you,” she sang, slipping into the hallway with the two trailing behind her. She sank to the bench and pulled out her laptop. 

“This is your cop hook up?” Deadpool hissed. 

“Hey, I don’t have a lot of friends on the force,” he huffed. “And Yuri’s amazing. She’s going to be a great cop one day.” 

“I leave for the academy in a few weeks, so try not to need me too much while I’m gone,” she said, opening something on her laptop. “What am I looking for?” 

“A missing orphan boy with a bounty on his head,” Peter replied. “When we save him, we’ll give you credit where it’s due.” 

“Please do,” she begged. “I’m young, asian, and a girl. I have a hard enough time having people not doubt me.” She typed at her keys. “Just save him fast, alright?” 

“You know it,” he said, flashing a smirk. “Pool, what’s the poor kid’s name?” 

“Peter Parker,” he said, reading off his phone. 

Yeah, there was that Parker luck again. 

Nothing can ever be that simple.

**Author's Note:**

> this is short, it's late and i just got back from camp
> 
> ily all and i promise this wont be gross, no slash i promise


End file.
